Football
by sydiy5bea
Summary: Nate wants to join the football team. All he needs is permission from Sully.
Nate

I take a deep breath and steel my resolve before knocking on the closed door. I shove my hands on my pocket when I hear footsteps approaching the door. _Why am I so nervous? This isn't a life or death situation. The worst that's going to happen is he's gonna say no._

The door swings open to reveal a rather haggard looking Sully. I knew he had a hangover because I didn't see him this morning, but I didn't know it was bad enough to keep him in bed for the better part of the day. "What?" he moans, pinching his nose and scrunching his eyes against the light.

"I, uh, wanted to ask you something."

"Well, go ahead and spit it out."

"I was wondering if, um, maybe it'd be okay with you that I, uh, could maybe... play football."

Sully frowns, causing my heart to clench. "What?" he finally grunts. "You gotta speak up, kid."

"I want to join the football team."

"The... The football team?"

"Yeah. I kinda need your permission because it's a big commitment and-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he interrupts. "Did I hear that correctly? The football team?"

"Yes, the football team. If I sign up, I'll have less time to train with you, but I figure all the running and weight training we're going to be doing will make up for lost time."

I pause and wait for his answer, but he still seems to be hung up on the first part. "...The _football_ team?"

"For the millionth time, yes." I find myself to be more irritated than nervous now. "Are your ears ringing that badly?"

"No, it's just... surprising." He folds his arms and leans against the door frame. "I didn't take you to be a team player, much less a football team player."

"Hey, I'm friendly when I want to be," I protest.

"I know, it's just strange. Have you ever played before?"

"Of course I have. I'm not joining the team on a whim. I happen to enjoy the sport. And I'm not half bad at it either."

"I guess I didn't take you as the football kind of kid. Aren't you a little... scrawny for football?"

I narrow my eyes at his accusation. "No, I can slip around defenders more easily. And what I lack in body mass, I make up for in speed. It's hard to tackle someone who's not there."

"Hm. Never thought of it that way." Sully shrugs and says, "As long as you don't get yourself injured, you have my permission."

"Wha- really?" My heart leaps in elation. I was half expecting him to say no. I haven't played football since my time at the orphanage. Truth be told, it's probably the one thing I actually miss about that place.

"I don't see why not. I used to play football myself. I know all the drills and workouts. You'll probably be more fit at the end of the season than you would be training with me. And you'll have to tell me when your games are. I haven't been to a football game in... gosh, forever."

"Awesome, now I don't have to drive myself."

Sully smirks and rolls his eyes. "Leave it to you you to ruin a moment."

"You were expecting something different?"

He pushes against my face and renters the darkness of his room. "I'll see you for dinner, kid. Rest is the best medicine."

"I'm not sure that applies to a hangover."

"You're one to talk. One night out and you're already an expert."

"Shut up," I grumble.

"That's the plan."

* * *

Sully

I growl to myself as I'm awaken by my way too excited protégé. "MERRY CHRISTMAS, SULLY!" he calls, busting through the door. "Wake up, sleepy head!"

"I'd rather not..."

"Oh, come on! There's time for sleeping and time for... not sleeping."

"That's not a thing."

"Sure it is. I'm making it one." Nate takes a running start and jumps onto my bed.

"Kid..."

"Christ-mas! Christ-mas! Christ-mas!" he chants bouncing around me.

" _Kid_..."

"Get hyped, grandpa!"

I sigh and sweep my leg under the sheets. "I'll be up in five minutes," I say into my pillow after hearing the satisfying thump of Nate hitting the ground. "You're making breakfast since you have too much energy this morning."

"So, I'm assuming you want your eggs sunny-side up," Nate grumbles, dusting himself off.

"More like hard boiled." Nate laughs and makes his way to the door. "And decaf coffee for you!" I call after him. "You're already bouncing off the walls. Lord knows what you'd do after a shot of caffeine."

I stay true to my word and force myself out of bed five minutes later. I stop in the bathroom to wash the sleep out of my eyes. My eyes instinctively roll at the sound of clanging coming from the kitchen followed by Nate's cursing. I breathe a sigh of relief when I don't find the kitchen on fire. "What'd you do this time?" I ask when the answer was not immediately apparent.

"I messed up the eggs, so we're having scrambled eggs instead of over medium. The coffee's almost ready, though."

The machine _dings_ and I pull my mug out. "It's okay, kid. Caffeine is a better wake up call than protein."

"Do you want toast?"

"Yeah, but I'll get that. You just focus on your eggs. Don't want the fire alarm going off."

"But that's a better wake up call than caffeine."

"Shut up."

It's a normal morning for us. Well, besides Nate jumping around. Christmas gets him excited. It's our second Christmas together. It's much less awkward now that we know each other a little better.

After breakfast, Nate pulls me to the couch and excitedly hands me a package wrapped in newspaper. "Merry Christmas, Sully."

I rip open the paper, smiling softly at the feeling of Nate jittering beside me. I chuckle and lift the box of cigars out of its wrapping. "Aw, shucks, kid. How'd you know?"

"Call me psychic," he giggles.

"Well, I'm not sure how you got these since you're not old enough to buy them, but thank you." I pass over an unadorned, brown box sealed with packing tape. It's less sightly than Nate's gift but only slightly. "It's your turn, kid."

He picks off the tape carefully, then unfolds the flaps with an expectant look on his face. He gives the present a strange glance, then cautiously lifts it up. The football is brand new. I bought it a week after Nate expressed interest in joining the team. I thought we could toss it around to practice before training started. But now Nate seems genuinely confused. Did he forget already? "What's wrong?" I ask.

"Why did you...? Oooooooh." His eyes light with understanding. "You thought-" Nate begins laughing, softly at first and it gets progressively louder. I frown as he curls in on himself, football cradled against his chest. There are literally tears rolling down his face.

"What's so funny?"

He can't even get the words out. He tries to suck in a breath, but his lungs keep squeezing the air out.

"Spit it out!"

"You - ha, ha - you thought I meant - heh, ha, ha, ha - you thought I meant _American_ football! Ha, ha, ha, ha, haaaaa! I would be crushed! I meant _soccer_!"

 _Huh. Well, that makes a lot more sense._ "Kid, if you're living in American, you call it soccer."

"I mean, can you imagine me wearing the pads and the helmet?" Nate continues like I didn't say anything. "American football is such a stupid sport."

"It is not! It's a respectable game."

"Well, I'm sure it's respectable, but it makes no sense. Downs, scrimmage line, seven points for a touchdown? I don't even know what a touchdown is."

"Well, technically, it's six points for a touchdown. You get the extra point if you kick a field goal."

"See what I mean? No sense. Foot - Uh, soccer," he catches himself, "makes sense. It's so simple that every country in the world plays it. American football is for Americans only. Well, there's Canadian football that's sorta like American football, but everyone forgets about Canada."

"First of all, you've got to stop calling it American football. It's just football. And secondly, football makes sense if you actually attempt to learn it. Football is an important part of American life, so if you wanna blend in, you gotta learn how to play. As soon as it gets a little warmer, we're going outside and tossing the ball around."

Nate raises an eyebrow. "Toss the ball around? Aren't I a little old for that?"

"Nobody's too old to toss the ball around. It's good for you."

"Alright, alright. But you have to promise me you'll never call me sport or champ."

"You got it, Pelé."

"Ugh."

"Oh, come on, sour puss. After lunch we'll get you a soccer ball."

"We should pick up cleats and shin-guards while we're at it."

"Of course, kid." I rustle his hair. "Merry Christmas, by the way."

" _Feliz Navidad! Joyeux Noël! Fröliche Weihnachten!_ "

"Show off..."

" _Ich weiß._ "

* * *

Nate

"Hey, Mr. MVP!" Sully calls across the pitch.

I blush slightly but continue to make my way over to the stands. "Sully..." I groan in embarrassment.

"I'm just congratulating you. There's nothing to be embarrassed about." He lightly punches me in the shoulder as soon as he gets close enough. "You were the best one out there, kid. Bar none."

"It was a team effort. We won because everyone did well, not just me."

"But you were the awesome-est! You were the Most Valuable Player. That means you were the best."

"Oh, please..."

"No, really! Those medals prove it. Winning the tournament and MVP? You've got it going on!"

"I got lucky."

"No, you're goddamn amazing." Sully drapes an arm over my sweaty shoulders and leads me to the parking lot. "That last minute goal you scored? Pure skill. Oh and that yellow card they gave you was completely uncalled for. You weren't even close to being offsides."

I smirk and nudge him in the ribs with an elbow. "Look at you, knowing the rules. I'm so proud of you."

"Proud of me? You should be proud of yourself! Hell, even I'm proud of you!" He pulls me close for a quick noggie. "You deserve a reward. What'd ya want? A trophy? A banner with your name in big, flashy letters?"

"Well, I already have these medals. What I could really go for is some ice cream."

Sully chuckles and shakes his head. "Ice cream it is then."

* * *

Sully

"God, he looks just like you, Elena," I rumble, gently stroking the newest member of the family on the back. Victor Drake fell asleep against my shoulder while we were sitting on the couch.

"Well, I certainly hope so," his mother laughs. "The other one looks so much like her father, people think she's adopted when it's just the two of us."

I chuckle and try to suppress the clenching of my heart as Victor snuggles deeper into my embrace. "I still don't get why you named him after me. Victor isn't exactly a... modern name."

"Victor is a beautiful name," she assures me. "I think it's very regal sounding."

"That still doesn't explain why you gave it to him in the first place."

Elena gives me the look. The same look she gave me when I told her Nate would find his way back to us after taking off into the underbelly of that zombie-infested island. The same look she gave me after I insisted on her staying in bed after taking the brunt force of a grenade. The same look I'm sure she gave me when I called her asking for a way into Yemen. The look was a perfect blend of "Really" and "You've got to be kidding me".

"Sully, you know why."

I shrug as well as I can with Victor laying on me.

She sighs and rolls her eyes. "I'll give you a hint: it rhymes with 'Shmate gloves dew'."

"Oh, please," I scoff.

"I'm pretty sure he talks to you more than me."

"That's because beautiful women make him nervous."

"Shut up," Elena rolls her eyes and holds out her hands for her son. "I'll put him to bed. You can hang out here and wait for Nate to come home. He'll be here any minute."

"Nah, I got it. I'll let you wait here for your lovely husband."

I stand up, making sure to cradle Victor's head. He could accidently snap his neck otherwise. I nudge the nursery door open with my hip and make my way over to the crib. "Okay, little buddy, here we go," I whisper as I gently pry his fingers off my shirt. "I love you too, but you gotta let go."

Victor sleepily opens his eyes as I finally untangle him from my shirt. "Uncle Suwy...?"

 _Damn it..._ It's going to take forever to get him back to sleep. "Hey, kiddo. It's time for bed."

"Bed?"

"Yup, you've got to get back to sleep," I say, lowering him into the crib.

"No," he mumbles. He rolls over and pushes himself onto his bottom. After yawning, he blinks up at me with big, blue eyes.

"No? Aren't you tired?"

"No."

"I think you might be. I just saw you yawn."

"No sleepy."

"Yes sleepy." I reach over the bars and try to lay him back down.

He crinkles his nose in distaste and shouts, "No! No sleepy!"

"Victor, you have to sleep. How else are you going to have enough energy to run around tomorrow?" It's always weird to say his name. It's my name, but nobody except my family and a few school friends called me Victor. Sullivan suits me just fine.

The boy seems to take my words into consideration, however. His little brow furrows and he asks, "No football?"

"No football," I answer.

He quickly climbs under the blanket and hugs a stuffed animal close to his chest. "Sleepy time! Sleepy time!" he chants, clenching his eyes shut as if willing himself to fall asleep faster.

I chuckle and ruffle his thin tuft of blonde hair. "Good night, kiddo."

"Night night, Uncle Suwy."

I make to turn towards the door, but his stuffed animal catches my eye. Upon closer inspection, I find that it isn't a stuffed animal at all. It's a small plush... _Soccer ball? Then why was he going on about... football!_ I press a hand to my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. _Nate, you son of a bitch. The kid's gonna get beat up if he calls it football. Goddamn Colombian boarding school..._

I quietly close the door behind me and make a beeline for the living room. _Unbelievable!_ _I'm gonna give that boy an earful. Didn't I tell him it's un-American to call it football?_

I round the corner while taking a deep breath. I deflate at the image before me. The couch faces away from the hallway, so all I see is the back of their heads. Nate and Elena are having a quiet conversation, sitting very close to one another. I smile as they chuckle together and Elena places her head in the crook of Nate's neck. Nate wraps his arm over her shoulder and moves his head ever so slightly to place a kiss on her temple.

I stealthily retreat a few steps and enclose myself in the guest bedroom. The need to lecture has vanished. There's always tomorrow morning.


End file.
